


Territorial Pissings

by Merci



Series: Territorial Pissings [1]
Category: DOGS - Fandom
Genre: Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, M/M, Shounen-ai, Violence, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-27
Updated: 2008-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merci/pseuds/Merci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giovanni takes up an unhealthy interest in Badou.  It started as curiosity, turning to jealousy, and then... to something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Badou, Giovanni, or Dogs: Bullets  & Carnage. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> I had been dying to write some Dogs fanfiction, I really was. I’d started this a while back a little bit before or during my exams last year (during my little study breaks.) When I should have been resting my eyes and brain, I was busy scribbling this shit out bit by bit. Anyways, I finally got around to typing it up and here we go. I don’t know *why* the fuck I’ve paired these two together. I really should stuff Badou in with Haine, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop writing this. It's a good example of me shutting my brain off and just hitting PLAY to see what comes out. I’m actually very pleased with how it turned out, so yay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Badou found himself spending another bland evening at his favourite watering hole. This time, however, he has company that is intent on figuring him out, or at least, asserting their dominance.

His finger angrily rolled over the rough, metal wheel. Flick, flick, it sparked but didn’t light. His unlit cigarette moved from its perch between his lips, dancing to the string of obscenities as the useless lighter slammed to the tabletop under his flat palm. His gaze stretched across the room, seeking a friendly face that might spare him a light. The club was dark, only lit with the throb of the strobe and the occasional coloured flash illuminating the people thrashing about to the speedy beats of industrial barrage that filled the air. He squinted, but didn’t recognize anybody through the smoke. A few people crowded around the booth behind his and he hunched over, the smoke still clinging to his lips as he glared at the spent lighter. He needed a spark, something to bring the cherry heater to life and make him smile a nicotine grin. A familiar flicking sound met his ears, a flame appeared beside him as a hand extended the burning heat towards him and he swiveled to look, planting the open end of his cylindrical sin into that flickering heat. His eye only then flicked up to look at his saviour, when his smile fell a fraction.

Sunglasses at night were just for show, though Badou knew with a sinking certainty that the scars trailing out from the concealing lenses would put his own mutilation to shame. This stranger needed them.

The man regarded him with a steady stare the smoker could feel through the coloured lenses and it only dawned to the redhead that he was expecting something. “Thanks,” he muttered, exhaling some of that noxiously delicious air. Then, “What do you want?”

This man’s mouth moved almost as if it were being pulled into a smile against its will. Almost. His teeth gleamed from behind his thin lips, pink tongue flicking past to accentuate the words. “I was curious about what he sees in you…”

Badou blinked and the man was sitting beside him in the booth. This guy moved fast. The freelance photographer instinctively inched away, his personal space severely compromised by this blonde in a pristine suit. He leaned back, pressing his back into the soft padding of his favourite seat, his head pressing into the hard wood and still this man pressed closer. “What the fuck?” Badou’s hands twitched, palms suddenly sweaty and he pressed them flat against his thighs. He couldn’t move any further back, and the man was pressing in against him. Damnit, this jerk was too fucking close, and Badou wasn’t in the mood to fight, but he wouldn’t let this guy just get all gay on him.

He inhaled a heated breath – nearly sucking it from the blonde’s mouth – readying to shove him away. His body tensed, fingers folding into fists. That man with the scars trailing from beneath his glasses grinned electric, invading Badou’s personal space one minute and drawing away the next, leaving a gulf of questions in Badou’s head as he settled into the seat beside him. This temporary relief didn’t ease the uncomfortable feeling of being trapped, but somehow, Badou was content so-long as there was enough room for him to smoke. He lifted his fingers to pull the cigarette away from his lips, drawing deeply before inhaling properly and he waited. If this man was going to get in his face, he’d fucking wait for him, damnit. He watched, frowned and stared. The silence spread like the space between them, Badou smoking while glaring at the man who sat with confident poise, one leg thrown over the other at the knee. His arm crossed over his lap so he looked like an elegant contortionist in his white suit. That intense stare, scrutiny tangible from behind those bug-eyed glasses began to wear on the redhead’s last nerve. He just kept watching. What the fuck did he want?

Badou reached out to his cigarette pack on the table. The abused cardboard yielded its last occupant and he took it between greedy lips, biting the filter with bared teeth and lighting its end with the heater from the first cigarette. His lungs welcomed the poisoned air inside and he sighed blissfully before staring at his uninvited guest. Back to the question, “the hell are you talking about? Who sees what in me? Start making sense or get the fuck out.” He raised his beer to his mouth, welcoming the distraction and needing something more between them. He skillfully angled his smoke to the side of his mouth while he drank, the filter balancing on the edge of his lips as his mouth was otherwise occupied. He was lazy, he felt like showing off, or at least proving that he was relaxed enough to drink and smoke at the same time.

He’d perfected the move, smoking and drinking. He’d impressed enough girls with it to get their numbers or invited back with them. The stranger just kept staring, though he moved forward suddenly, his hand snaked out lightning fast to pluck the cancer stick from the redhead’s mouth. Fast as lightning, Badou didn’t see it coming, except when the burning heater drew his eye from where it glowed, jutting from its new place between the stranger’s lips. Only Haine had ever been able to do that. The redhead snapped his beer down, the fluid motion followed up by a snap of the wrist that reclaimed the cigarette from the stranger – he’d had plenty of practice with his white-haired accomplice to reclaim his stolen vice. “Hands off my smokes, unless you’re buying me a new pack.” He replaced it between his frowning lips, eyeing the other man and deciding on a way out of there. “What the fuck do you want to know?”

“We share a mutual… _friend_ , Badou,” he rolled the vowels around his mouth, seeming to verbally molest each one before letting it out. “I’m curious about _what_ he sees in you.”

“You talkin’ about Haine?” Badou frowned, “Don’t say it like that, makes it sound gay.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No!” his nose scrunched at the denial that rang clear over the throbbing music. “That idiot isn’t my boyfriend.”

The blonde seemed to sit back, an unbelieving ‘Oh’ on his lips, but he said nothing further.

“Look,” Badou ground out. “I’ll say this once; our relationship isn’t like that.” He suddenly wanted this stranger to believe him, wanted to believe it himself. No, he just wanted this guy to fuck off and let him smoke. Then a thought struck him. “We’re not like that, so if this is some jealousy thing, I’m not moving in on your turf. You can have him.”

The stranger’s laughter was as smooth as smoke, washing over the redhead’s senses at a level that cut right through to him, and he swore he could see it rolling through the hazy air towards him. It was as if they were in a different pocket of reality on the back of that bar, and he felt his stomach clench as he watched the stranger’s arm move between them, his hand sliding under the table and he felt those long fingers lightly squeeze into his knee. “What the fuck?!” he backed away, sliding his legs out of reach. The throb of the music pounded in his ears, his smoke burning down between his fingers – forgotten.

The blonde’s grin never wavered, growing slightly, white teeth gleaming in the dim light. “I think I see it…”

“You don’t see shit,” Badou bit out, taking a drag of his smoke as he looked past the stranger to the club, welcoming its heavy industrial barrage to slice through him. He was briefly distracted by a few girls and willowy guys who were thrashing about on the floor in a rhythm-less dance of wild limbs and jerky movements. Their swaying forms were hypnotic and chaotic, though they might as well have been a mile away; Badou was staring down this man that seemed to have some sick interest in him.

“He’s playing a dangerous game,” his charming lilt drew Badou’s attention back to him again. “And it seems you already know the rules…”

Badou’s voice caught in his throat. He was going to tell this guy to fuck off and quit with the vague bullshit, though that thought died in his lungs as he witnessed the stranger’s finger lightly perched against the frame of his glasses. He held the eyewear up a fraction to expose the scars that had been peeking out, trailing down his cheeks.

Badou coughed and his scarred hand flew up to his eye patch, the smoke wavered in the air around him.

“I think I’ll enjoy playing with you too…” The man moved quickly; one moment he was a safe distance away, comfortably far away. The next moment, his cold fingers held Badou’s face in a steely grip, fingertips digging into his cheek and Badou couldn’t pull away. His legs were trapped by this stranger who moved against him in a bold gesture, pinning him to the back of the booth with his body. His other hand came up beside its mate, this time the fingers latched around Badou’s throat.

His neck fit comfortably into the man’s palms, the muscles yielding under fingertips that squeezed with repressed strength. Badou dumbly grabbed the stranger’s wrist, pulling weakly against the strangulation. The smoke in his lungs burned, air choked off and gasping. He was locked in, staring into that grotesquely beautiful man’s eyes and he was slowly losing consciousness.

Air, air, air he’d poisoned and sucked in with willing and greedy lungs was leaking out in cyanide puffs, and the strobe continued around them, bleary, the pounding rhythm beat through him, fast and matching the climbing rhythm of his heart and he was somehow flying.

Then, the pressure released a fraction and the man’s lips were on his and he could only gasp and suck in the air as a tongue snaked in to possess his mouth and he grudgingly let it, so-long as he was allowed to breathe.

Damnit, damnit! He struggled weakly, fingernails digging into the man’s wrist, pressing his head into the back of the booth. The stranger’s fingers held his neck, gliding over the skin; caressing. Badou paused in his struggles, twitching as those fingers spread apart, spread to touch and grope at his throat. Everything about this man was sharp and precise, yet the movements were exploratory, inquisitive, bordering on tender and the redhead felt a shiver race up his spine at the contrast. He shuddered as that man’s tongue continued to work against his in a violent assault and he was helpless to do anything but let it. Let that muscle shove its way inside and do as it pleased, while his rough, battle-worn fingers explored his throat with butterfly-touches.

Badou released the man’s wrist and moved to grab his throat as well, his nicotine-stained fingers resting lightly, too lightly – he was supposed to be resisting, damnit – on the stranger’s throat. The collar of his suit was soft; soft, silky and expensive and showed he really was from a different level of the city. Nobody around there had a suit that white and clean… Badou ignored the questions in his head, he didn’t give a fuck where this guy was from, and it didn’t matter if he wondered why he was kissing him. He just wanted to fucking strangle this guy and he pulled at the tie, loosening the binding and dipping his fingers below the stiff fabric to feel… metal.

He started, his eyes flying open and the blonde seemed to falter in the kiss, his fingers tightening around Badou’s throat in response. The redhead tried to pull back, breathe, do something, but all he could do was continue to match this man’s tongue as he fingered every inch of the metal in his neck, under the fucking skin, and all he could think of was Haine’s neck ring.

Haine, his partner – not really friend – who couldn’t die, but could still feel the pain…

Badou dug in with his nails, scratching to draw blood and he grinned when the man withdrew his tongue.

What was that coppery taste in his mouth? He watched the stranger hovering inches away, those sunglasses somehow in place again and the same knowing grin on his lips; kiss-swollen lips, Badou noticed. Fuck.

“I think I see it now,” the man sighed, seemingly satisfied.

Badou frowned, double-fuck, he wasn’t satisfied! He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, shit! Shit! He didn’t swing that way and this guy had just tongue-fucked him in a goddamn bar, and he only _now_ thought of how disgusted he was?! He was disgusted… wasn’t he?

Damnit, it didn’t feel that way.

Shit.

“I look forward to seeing you again, then.” The blonde stood, just as pristine and cool as when he’d first sat. “Maybe we can play some more when you make it down to the lower levels. I promise something more fun than this,” he seductively brushed a fingertip over the eye patch.

Badou shivered and felt his pockets for his pack, a fucking smoke… he was out. Damnit!

The finger on the eye patch pulled back and the blonde stepped away. Badou was glued to his seat. Damnit, he wanted to go after him. Why the hell did he let that fucker get so close? Why did he know about Haine? Stupid, he’s just _like_ Haine. Badou curled his fingers, resting his elbows on the table and dropping his head to his arms as the man left. He could feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, the familiar tingle of anxiety when his nicotine levels dropped. The music seemed to get louder, grinding industrial beats speeding along to the freaked-rhythm of his heart. He lifted his head and brought the pint to his lips, tipping it back to get the last gulp of the smooth liquid. He looked to his crushed cigarette pack on the table, noticing one cylinder left in its mangled shell. He frowned and shot forward to retrieve it. Hadn’t he been out? Nevermind. He slapped a worn bill on the table, tucking it under the pint glass and slipped the last cyanide stick between his lips. He moved to stand, uncomfortably shifting his jeans and letting his leather jacket hang low his shoulders, only stopping to bother a waitress for a light before he rushed outside. He slammed the door open, the metal cracking against the old brick and mortar as he violently coughed the first lungful to the stale night air. Not his brand. He pulled the smoke from his mouth and frowned at the blue bands that circled the filter in two precise splashes of colour. He didn’t recognize the damn logo on it at all.

His brow quirked down and he rolled his eye before shrugging and tucked it back between his lips. That fucking guy… well, the smoke was stronger than his usual, cheap brand, but it wasn’t anything Badou couldn’t handle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giovanni’s curiosity pushes him forward to visit Badou again, seeking him out at his apartment. He can sense something in the redhead that keeps pulling him in. He can’t put his finger on what it is, but he wants more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m irritated that “ferally” isn’t a real word… why is that? It would work so perfect in this fandom… also, spellcheck doesn’t like “unconsensual” which is fucked up.
> 
> I also wanted to mention that this entire series (well, both chapters) were inspired by 2013's art of these two found [here](http://yaoi.y-gallery.net/view/327812/) or [here](http://2013.deviantart.com/art/giovanni-badou-63535518). I looked at that picture and thought, “OMG, I don’t think they’ve even SEEN each other, have they? What… would they have to say to each other?” I also thought the way she did Giovanni’s scars was _really_ sexy. I know this isn’t a common pairing, but I can’t help wanting to ship them so hardcore. (Why do I always go for the weird pairings?)

The people instinctively moved out of his way, giving Giovanni a wide berth as his white coat flapped out behind him. They moved in the opposite direction, across or even diagonal, but never parallel to the blonde. None of them preceded or followed him to his destination. None of them had a reason to visit the old apartment building that late at night, travelling up to the eighth floor to visit the man with red hair who stank of cigarettes, sweat and gunpowder.

The blonde man especially liked the latter; his canines glinted in the shady light of the hall lights. The could not help become aroused at the scent of violence. Carnage thick with blood made for a heady, irresistible aroma and yet, it was the stink of tobacco that really got him going. Especially the unique herbal blend of whatever cheap brand Badou puffed into his lungs. Imported and rancid - nobody else smoked them - though it seemed that the redhead was keeping them in business all on his own.

Giovanni paused before the door, his white coat pulled back as he casually dug a hand into his pocket. What to do? What was he doing? Paying a visit to Badou in his own home? Giovanni choked back a laugh. Wasn’t it pathetic? He just needed to dig his fingers into the other man again. The taste of cigarettes was still fresh in his mind and he had run into Haine that day. The albino hadn't said anything about his redheaded partner – the damn guy hadn't even come up – but Giovanni felt the need to mark his territory a bit more firmly. The territorial pissings and all that shit that dogs got into. Damnit, a little bloodshed got his blood pumping, and Haine had only teased him.

With the taste of blood and bullets still fresh in his mind, Giovanni tried the door to the apartment. It swung freely and the blonde eyed the effectless barrier as it creaked on its hinges, his gaze flicking to the man standing in the doorway. Badou had stopped in his tracks, his hand frozen in the air after turning the doorknob. He stared, unblinking with his cigarette hanging from his lips, loosely trailing smoke up the side of his face. Giovanni eyed the black leather jacket that hung off his shoulders, open wide and exposing the blue-black shirt he wore.

Going out this late? The blonde had other plans. He moved quickly, taking the other man off-guard and shoving him back into the apartment and stepping in afterwards. He shut the door behind him and locked it with and audible click before looking back to the redhead.

Badou had fallen back against the kitchen wall, but didn’t stay there as he sprang back to his feet, gun at hand and pointed at the man in white.

Giovanni grinned, feeling his adrenaline surge through his body.

"The fuck are you doing here?" Badou choked on his smoke through a delightful grimace.

Giovanni wasted no time and was on him in a second, feeling his body delighting in the way the redhead struggled, shoving him back and wrenching free. It was amusing how Badou tried to fight back, clenching his fist and firing it out in attempt to make the blonde stop. He recoiled from the hit that glanced off his jaw, tasting blood from a busted tooth – he was sure – and then turned back to face the redhead, grinning as he met the barrel of his gun.

Oh, fuck, that gunpowder.

There was a moment of silence, a pause, and then Giovanni reached out, casually bypassing the steel weapon and stretching his fingers out to push aside the lapel of the black leather jacket. He rested his fingertips just below the collar of Badou’s blue-black shirt, feeling the heart beneath pounding fiercely. Badou’s single, aqua eye was watching him, frowning in distrust when Giovanni leaned closer, moving forward and pressing the barrel of that gun right to his cheek. He hated head wounds, but fuck, the expression in that sea-blue eye was priceless. He opened his mouth, his breath tinged with lust as he breathed, “Pull it.” Badou shuddered and there was an explosion of sound and pain.

Giovanni bowed his head, his mind assessing the damage; a grazing wound, maybe some bone. He tightened his grip on the redhead’s collar and slumped forward. The pain splashed through his conscience like paint exploding on a wall in wet rivulets of white-pain and smoke. It might have killed him, but the gears began to churn within him, reconstructing and assembling the broken parts.

The blonde surged forward, planting a knee between the redhead’s thighs and pressing his body firmly along the smoker’s torso. He could still hear out of one ear – the one that wasn’t busy healing. “What the hell are you?!” a couple more shots missed their mark and Giovanni batted the firearm away. It clattered to the floor with a sharp sound that seemed to trigger silence from everything else in the apartment. Giovanni pressed Badou tightly against the wall, feeling the other man’s struggles dying as he removed his white, bug-eyed sunglasses from their perch on his nose. Once the red-tinted lenses had been removed, Giovanni watched with clear eyes as that exotically blue orb regarded him with some recognition that bordered on horror. “What are you…?”

“A monster of sorts… perhaps?” Giovanni grinned at the fear that surrounded the aqua eye. “But maybe I’m just a stray dog. Shall I bark for you?” Giovanni pressed forward, feeling Badou’s hands press against his shoulders, trying to hold him back. He could smell the heat pouring off the other man. “Woof…” It lacked the musk of arousal, but the white dog understood how _easily_ that heat could change to become so. And first, they would play.

That fist struck him again and he loosened his grip a fraction. He allowed Badou to push him away and stumble back into the apartment. Giovanni followed, removing his jacket stained with a vicious splash of blood and draped it over the back of a chair. He could take his time. Just like the first time they had met. Badou, however, was anxious, angry, and definitely violent as he threw out punch after punch, his red hair flying out behind him.

Giovanni dodged the attack, his blonde hair staying perfect along his jaw, cut severe above his scarred eyes. He drove a fist towards Badou, surprised when the other man dodged as well.

The surprise must have shown because it drew a cocky smirk to the smoker’s lips. “I told ya I don’t swing that way. Why don’t you bug Haine if you wanna fuck around?”

“You seem capable of entertaining me,” Giovanni pressed forward, hunching his shoulders in this game of dominance.

“Wait…” Badou seemed to realize something. “C’mon, just… let me have a smoke.” A stall tactic and he tried to get away, ducking under a well-aimed punch, only to be caught up in Giovanni’s other hand. “Shit…”

The blonde sneered, wrenching the other man up and tightening his grip in the blue shirt. That smell in his nose was growing musky. He shoved Badou back against the wall, the redhead half-bounced against the dusty plaster. His hands flew up in a call for truce. Giovanni moved in close, letting the redhead try to push him away. He felt those fingers curling in his pinstripe shirt and moved his own hands in, fingering the lapels of the leather jacket. Badou made a sound in the back of his throat as he pushed his fingers under, caressing the redhead’s shoulders before lifting the leather garment from its place and letting it slide down his arms. “I know what Haine sees in you, but I’ve found something else,” Giovanni pressed Badou’s hands away, letting the jacket fall to the ground. He pressed in closer.

“Ye-eah?” the smoker laughed nervously. His eye shifted to look away, not even struggling to escape.

Giovanni drew even closer, pressing his knee between Badou’s thighs again. The limbs spread rigidly, fighting every inch before that knee pressed against the wall and the blonde pressed his torso forward to completely pin the other man to the dusty plaster. He pressed in closer, eyeing the pristine throat bared to him as Badou continued to look away. There was the inhalation of breath, hitching and damaged as oxygen was drawn into those toxic lungs and Giovanni followed the air, tracing his tongue along the smoker’s delicious throat.

The redhead twitched, his pulse throbbing under Giovanni’s lips and that only drove the blonde to force the game. He traced his fingers under Badou’s chin, drawing his gaze back as the two men eyed each other nose-to-nose. Badou’s heart was pounding, his skin glowing with the hint of arousal. He still frowned as their gazes remained locked and Giovanni pressed his advantage, tilting his head and kissing Badou for the second time in his life.

He tasted just like the first time; recoiling tongue tasting of tobacco and teeth biting down to push him out. The fight didn’t last long and before long those nicotine lips came down to meet Giovanni’s mouth, causing the blonde to chuckle. His fist relaxed in Badou’s shirt, finally intending to touch his surrendered prey.

The fabric was a deep blue with a subtle black design that he could feel the relief of as his fingers played out, palm firm against Badou’s chest. He moved his hand; across, down, around, pulling up on the blue material and Badou grunted irritatedly. He shrank away as Giovanni’s fingers finally moved up to push at his bare stomach.

So vulnerable… so much potential for damage. Damnit, that power was intoxicating and his nails dug in, dragging across the taut belly.

He could feel the redhead’s hands likewise digging into his shoulders; both pushing and pulling, as if he couldn’t decide what he wanted. He dragged his nails upward, cutting over Badou’s nipples. “Fucking hell?!” he gasped, breaking the oral assault.

“Need a cigarette already?” Giovanni didn’t remove his hands and continued to knead the soft parts of Badou’s torso.

The look of contemplation in that aqua eye was brief and serious before the thick desire closed around and he frowned. “No… this is just wrong. I told you I’m not like this. You’re sick… why don’t you go molest Haine?” The questions tumbled past his lips, still tight with apprehension. Was that fear Giovanni could smell? He inhaled deeply, drawing his nose over Badou’s cheek, down his jaw line.

Red hair cascaded in oily waves, a few strands of coppery fire catching on his nose as he breathed in the scent of the other man. Smokey desire and outright lust was throbbing in his veins, or at least, the insistent need to get off. Not fear, fucking sex was burning in the sweat on Badou’s neck and Giovanni lapped at it, biting and marking as he pressed his hips forward, feeling the definite hardness pressing against his thigh.

Badou released Giovanni’s shoulders and pressed his hands flat against the blonde’s chest. He traced his fingers along the pinstripes there, moving down and snaking along the buttons that held the dress shirt together, fumbling to do something constructive with the garment.

Giovanni grunted deep in his throat, a growl that escalated as the redhead managed to release the buttons on his shirt. He felt his prey begin to scratch at the scars along his bare chest and he latched onto the junction of Badou’s neck, lapping at the scar-less flesh there.

He clamped down with his teeth, squeezing harder and harder as something inside, some tension within him. He twisted his head, grinding his teeth and then relaxed, the tension releasing inside his head as he tasted the first drops of metallic sweetness.

“Asshole!” Badou’s hands were insistent and forceful as they flew up to clamp around Giovanni’s head. Attempting to pry the grinning dog away. “Goddamnit, you broke the skin!” He looked back to Giovanni, venom burning in his one, deep-aqua eye. “I can’t heal like you, fucking prick. This shit is gonna scar!” His face flushed deep red, such a beautiful effect to compliment his pale complexion and Giovanni grinned wider.

The blonde was on autopilot, running on instinct. He could feel the insistence in Badou’s hands and the throbbing organ that pressed ever insistent against his thigh. The redhead frowned, though his eye shifted, glimmering beneath the anger and Giovanni recognized the invitation there. There was no getting around what would happen next. His drive to fuck Badou into the wall was overriding anything else in his mind was telling him to do – it was too blood-deprived to have a real opinion anyways.

He hooked his fingers into the waist of Badou’s jeans and yanked him forward. Badou moaned, husky and smoky tenor grinding down to a groan. His hands locked around Giovanni’s throat and the blonde felt nails digging in around his neck, scratching at his neck ring and sending flashes of white pain behind his vision. He felt his eyes roll back at the sensation, exciting and rivaling the utter buzz of desire thrumming through his bloodstream. He yanked on Badou’s hips again – the other man helpfully thrust forward – pulling him away from the wall and, in one move, spinning him around. Red hair flew out as he reversed Badou’s position and slammed him face-first against the wall.

The smoker was cursing again as he dug his fingers into the faded paint and pressed back, trying to get away from the wall. He turned just enough for Giovanni to see his eye glaring back in annoyance. The blonde pressed his hips forward, declaring his intentions loud and clear by firmly grinding his erection, clothed and pure in his white slacks against the rough, worn jeans that clung to Badou’s ass like a second skin. Badou tilted his head, rolling his hips back like a dancer, arousing and alluring. His eye still burned with helpless irritation, sparking the blonde into action.

Those jeans looked so good on Badou’s lanky frame, but were just in the way, and Giovanni needed in. He reached around the struggling body to find the clasp that kept them in place. His fingers curled under the waistband of Badou’s pants, resting on his thin hips and feeling out the warm flesh underneath. He heard the redhead’s nails digging into the wall by his head, crumbling the old plaster in desperation, straining against whatever inner battle was probably telling him this was a bad idea.

It _was_ a bad idea. He’d probably resist more vehemently if he knew what Giovanni was, but it wasn’t the blonde’s problem. As long as the redhead didn’t shoot him again, he’d continue. Badou’s inner war did not affect him and he curled his fingers around the waistband of the jeans. If anything, it was amusing to see him struggle against his desires and instincts. Nothing held back instinct; Giovanni knew this all-too well as he moved his hands, seeking out the button on the front of the pants. He breathed in Badou’s struggles, growling when he felt a sharp intake of breath as he snapped his fingers, freeing the metal disk from its place in the buttonhole.

Badou shuddered, exhaling a shaky breath and Giovanni leaned forward, pressing the length of his body against Badou’s lithe back. He pressed his nose against the smoker’s sweaty neck, brushing the red strands of hair out of the way and he licked the flawless expanse of skin there. It was perfect and free of metal. Just bone, muscle, blood and skin. He inhaled deeply, smelling the blood rushing just below the surface. Thick with endorphins and lust. He could _feel_ the desire in the needy way the other man pressed his ass back, firmly grinding against his erection.

His mouth broke into a feral grin and Giovanni moved his fingers to continue their course in lowering the straining zipper. He pinched the metal tab between his fingers, pulling downward. The teeth clicked apart pair by agonizing pair until only one thin layer of cloth separated Giovanni from his prize. Only his own harsh, needy groans filled his ears and his jaw tightened, silencing that weak, betraying noise, instead forcing it from between Badou’s smoke-stained lips. He jerked forward and Badou pressed back. He opened his mouth, drawing in a rough gasp that indicated he wished to say something. Giovanni kept his body tightly against the redhead’s, though no denial or rejection came through that panting nicotine mouth. He did not encourage or reject, but Giovanni took the subtle way he ground back as all the invite he needed to grasp the jeans and pull them down.

Giovanni felt a thrill race up his spine and dance around in his neck, the electric excitement dancing through the metal and connecting with something in his brain. Something snapped into place and a primal urge clamped into action within him. The redhead’s furrowed brow was a challenge, and the ass oh-so-lightly pressing into him was acceptance.

These signs were so crystal-clear and Giovanni felt the dog within him howling. It was incessant and intense and it was all he could do to keep from tearing Badou apart. That pristine neck bared to him, hidden by a thin curtain of fiery red hair still drew his mouth in. It begged his teeth to clamp into the muscle and his jaw to tighten. His hands were done exploring, finished teasing and above all ‘playing’. They now moved with precision in the way they scraped and clawed around Badou’s taut stomach. He felt the muscle beneath tighten at the contact, shuddering as he dragged his nails down, pressing into the smoker’s abdomen and then south, beneath the waistband of the zebra-print boxers and even through the trail of wiry hair that met him a few inches in. He sucked back hard on Badou’s neck, tasting the elevated levels of excitement and hearing the grunt of pain when he finally released the abused skin from between his teeth. He licked his lips, enjoying the shudder that spread through Badou’s frame as his fingers closed around his erection.

It was solid and ready, a thick shaft of unrelenting need masquerading as an organ. He panted, Badou’s sex was as hard as his own and Giovanni would make this encounter worth remembering. In one swift movement, he pushed the redhead’s boxers down to his knees and shoved him forward. Badou’s arms buckled under the force, allowing Giovanni to hold him face-first against the cracked plaster wall as he worked at the button of his own pants to ready himself.

He half-listened to the creative verbal assault that poured from Badou’s mouth as he dragged his spit-slicked hand over his pale erection. He imagined the redhead mouthing each word, his full, snarling lips forming each threat and he got an idea. He released his cock and reached up to Badou’s mouth where he pressed a finger inside. He expected the teeth that clamped down upon him, though he wasn’t expecting the bitter laugh that followed.

Badou’s mouth tightened around his finger in a broad grin as his tongue flattened and curled around the pad of the invading digit. He sucked on it and released, lavishing the finger with licks that made Giovanni groan. The redhead repeated the motion a couple times before laughing again. “I need a smoke…” he said around the finger.

Giovanni withdrew his finger and observed as the one-eyed man withdrew a smoke from his pack and skillfully sparked it up, inhaling sharply as the blonde pressed his slicked finger between the cheeks of his ass. “Ah, what the fuck?” Badou angrily looked back as Giovanni forced his finger in to the second knuckle.

“I could skip the prep,” the pale killer tilted his head to the side. The smoke rose from the burning ember like upwards falling water.

“Ugh, fine! Just don’t be cheap with it, then.”

He could feel the redhead’s body shudder, his own cock twitched as that tight heat quivered around his hand. Quivered and clenched in a way that was inviting. He pushed in further and curled around to thoroughly caress his insides. The inner walls were pliant and hot. Hot like a wet oven. Hot like hell probably was. Giovanni couldn’t suppress a grin at that thought and he continued stroking Badou from the inside.

Hot like hell, but it would feel like heaven.

He looked up to see a blue-green eye peering at him through a curtain of red locks; sweaty and stringy and messy. His face was flushed, his lips reddened and panting around the dying cigarette. That cigarette… Giovanni had had enough. He pulled his fingers from the other man’s entrance and gripped his chin in an iron grip. Badou resisted his hold, his eye growing wide as the pale man pressed in close.

His slick cock pressing against Badou’s entrance. It was slow and methodical and Giovanni wouldn’t let Badou look away as he pressed forward.

The redhead tried to wriggle away, pressing against the wall in a futile bid to escape as Giovanni eased the head of his cock into the tight opening before him.

Badou shuddered and cursed, sucking back on the smoke as his eye rolled back in his head.

Giovanni enjoyed the conflicting reaction as he pressed in further. There was something about this man that made him do it. It was only in that moment when his body’s sexual desires were being fulfilled that he could catch a glimpse of it. He could feel it in the way Badou writhed away from him while his ass eagerly gripped him tighter. He could see it in the way his eye hungrily said ‘fuck me already’ while his mouth sucked on the last of his cigarette and cursed for him to stop.

Giovanni tightened his fingers on his jaw, the smell of Badou’s arousal heady and thick on his fingers. The smell of the redhead’s entrance coated his digits.

Now his cock tasted of him too as his hips rocked against Badou’s ass. He didn’t pull out, just let the heat and tightness wind him up tighter than jerking off ever had.

He still forced Badou’s gaze, peering into the remnants of his damaged soul, and the upraised eyebrow of defeat signaled for him to go on.

“Move…” Badou whispered, his expression taking on an irritated feel.

Giovanni loosened his grip on the smoker’s chin and withdrew the burnt-out cigarette from between his lips, replacing it with his own mouth, and he moved. Pulling back until his cock was free and chilling in the cool air of the apartment before pressing it in all the way to the hilt. Badou moaned around his tongue, making those delicious sucking sounds before his teeth did the talking and bit into Giovanni’s tongue.

The blonde pushed in harder and their bodies fell into rhythm; the ancient, primal drive to get as deep as possible as hard and fast as possible possessed Giovanni’s desire and he did little to hold back a feral bark that rattled past his clenched teeth.

The redhead thrust back, fingernails digging into plaster, the telltale bruises were already beginning to form around his neck, his flawless, reddened neck and Giovanni had to taste it again. Taste the absence of metal and delicious fear seeped in blind lust. Licking and scratching as his pelvis trust relentlessly and his body clawed its way into Badou’s frame.

He was awash in a sea of feeling, the blood and sweat of the redhead tossing him about in a storm of reckless ardour. A sea that was crushing him, drowning him and, like the brutal dog within, his release possessed him with an explosion of pleasure, instead of bloodthirsty fangs that ravaged his core.

He was dimly aware of the smoker choking out a hoarse scream as well and he only pulled him in harder. Giovanni arched backwards, bending his prey along as both their bodies shuddered in unison. He dragged his fingers up along Badou’s torso, roughly tracing over the smoker’s ribs until his fingers grazed over that delicious throat. Giovanni growled low as the euphoric haze left his mind and he clamped his teeth onto Badou’s neck.

Badou slammed him back. “What the _fuck_ was that for?!” He’d separated from Giovanni and was glaring at him, ready to fight.

The blonde surveyed him in his state of undress; his face was reddened where he’d been pressed to the wall, his eye had lost the dilated glow of arousal and had been taken over with a spark of anger. His hand cradled his neck while the other made a fist, ready to fight again.

Giovanni dragged his gaze along that sinewy body, smirking when he saw the evidence that hung between Badou’s legs; the end glistened with evidence splattered on the wall behind him. “To provoke this reaction…” Giovanni stepped in closer, pressing a hand to Badou’s chest and leaning in close. “To show you where you stand… and where _I_ stand above you.” He saw the punch coming as Badou lashed out at him. He saw it and took it, gladly.

“Fuck you! You’re not above me, you’re just a stalker that won’t leave me the hell alone and bug Haine instead.” His voice was thick with anger and fear. Giovanni narrowed his eyes and backed away, dragging his fingers down the length of Badou’s torso as he did. He had come, marking the redhead on the inside with his seed and he felt a bizarre calm settle over the dog within him.

Badou was _his_.

He raked his gaze down the smoker’s body, looking to the place that proved Badou’s involvement had not been entirely nonconsensual. The redhead’s venom seemed to wane as he realized where Giovanni was looking and shifted to cover himself. The blonde re-dressed with shameless grace, tucking his flagging member back into his trousers without shifting his gaze away.

Badou tried to stare back, match intimidation with intimidation, but shifted uncomfortably after a minute, instinctively patting his chest for a cigarette. He looked away, searching for a pack of cigarettes and Giovanni grinned at this victory. He retrieved his shirt from where it had fallen; fastening the buttons after deciding his dominance over the other man was secure in both their minds.

“So… what the fuck else did you see in me, then?” Badou approached, the familiar cigarette smoking from between his lips and his gun aimed and ready.

Giovanni grinned as Badou cocked the firearm. “Weren’t you going somewhere?”

His eye narrowed, he kept the gun aimed while pulling the smoke from hips lips, indecision clearly written on his face. He already knew bullets were ineffective – evidenced by the blood splattered down Giovanni’s white jacket.

Giovanni was thoroughly amused with Badou’s reaction. It was so easy to see how the gears in Badou’s head turned, seeming to grind along between hating and recalling what he’d been doing before all this had happened. They churned through thoughts until something seemed to snap in that aqua eye and then Badou was cursing and rushing to fix his clothes, muttering the distinct name of his partner; Haine.

Well, partner in most ways but one.

Giovanni grinned, noting the bruise on Badou’s neck that resembled teeth. “I’ll see you around.” He turned and left, feeling giddy at the confused way Badou called out to him.

“Okay, see you… wait! NO, YOU ASSHOLE!”

Giovanni absently bit his lip, trying to repress a grin as he walked down the stairs and out into the street. It was strange; the thing he saw in Badou was more of a feeling he got. A vibe. It was impossible to define or put into words, but it was definitely there. He saw something in the other man, something that drew him in and marked him. He’d marked Badou. Haine may have seen something in the smoker, but Giovanni saw something more. The feeling Badou stirred within him was not something he could give up, either. Not something he would loosen his bite on now that he’d locked his fangs into that intoxicating flesh.

He placed his glasses over his eyes, tinting the world a reddish shade once more. He’d allow Badou to see Haine, if only to irritate the albino. He was certain his mark would last and nothing the stray dog did would erase it. Giovanni pushed past the scarlet-tinted crowd, ignoring their startled looks at his bloodied white coat.


End file.
